Rhyme and Dine
by arjelle
Summary: "Roses are red, violets are blue, you say I need to work on my poetry? Wow, that's really true." A man who writes poems as a hobby and a striving artist meet at an inconvenience in a restaurant. An inconvenience that turned into a good thing. Happy V-Day!


**Title: **Rhyme and Dine**  
>Genre: <strong>Romance with a side of humor**  
>Pairing(s): <strong>USUK**, **with a hint of Franada**  
>RatingWarnings: **poetry.**  
>Summary: <strong>_**"**__Roses are red, violets are blue, you say I need to work on my poetry? Wow, that's really true." _A closeted poet and a striving artist meet at an inconvenience in a restaurant. An inconvenience then turns into the best thing of their lives.

He tapped his feet on the floor rhythmically to the beat of the music playing on the speakers of the restaurant. This was a routine for him. Wake up at 7AM in the morning, brush his teeth, wash up, get dressed, then go down the street to McDonald's to get himself a breakfast. It was now 9AM and the restaurant was practically empty; save for him, the woman in front of him, the one in back of him, and the other woman in the corner, typing on her computer like there's no tomorrow.

He was writing in his journal- very manly, I'll have you know. It's only masculine if it's a diary. Journals are very manly. Anyways, he was writing in his journal. It was filled with notes associating with his work, with sketches and doodles surrounding it. And enough spaces for more of those.

Especially for his poems. _That _was a bit iffy. I mean, sure it's poems. Guys wrote poems all the time when they wanted to. And it's not as if it was a job of his, it was just a hobby! No, his real job was something else. It wasn't what he had expected to be, but it helped people, and that's all that mattered to him. He was the one who worked in the advice columns. Yeah, seems pretty dorky, and above all, it was anonymous, so he didn't get much credit, except for his boss and best friend who had suggested he take that column up. But still, it helped people, and that's all that mattered.

It was raining that morning. Really hard, actually. It wasn't really a storm, but _damn. _Within minutes, the parking lot looked a bit flooded and there were barely any cars in the streets. Was work cancelled? Or was it one of those times where Gilbert- who worked for the sports section as a researcher would simply say. "You guys are so unawesome. I made it to work and look at me! I'm glowing like the scalp of a bald man!" Elizaveta, their boss would simply reply by saying. "And just a bald man, their pride and joy," She was talking about their hair. "Is fading away."

After that, a couple of, "Ohhhhh!"s were heard when she had said that. Good times.

He smiled as it was his turn to order. The cashier spoke to him, her voice bored, she had bags under her eyes, and she yawned every now and then. When he was about to give her his order, he heard the door open along with a man cursing to himself while he held the door open to dry off his umbrella. The man was a bit drenched from the rain, but he looked pretty dry.

"Blasted rain," He grumbled. "Land of opportunities my arse. And this is supposed to be the sunshine state."

Yes, Alfred had resided in Florida. He didn't know why he had decided to live here. The sun and the warmth, maybe? He hated the cold and only made an exception for snow and snow only. So he guessed that if he had to move to a warm state, it would be Florida. You have the beaches down in Key West, Disney World in Orlando- more theme parks than it had in California, and of course, the almost always warm weather. Except for today.

The man dug into his pockets searching for his wallet as he walked towards the line. When he had finished looking through all of his pockets- his bag included, he sighed deeply and looked out the window to the car he had rented. He clutched his stomach, aching for food- even for food from here. He had questioned why he had stopped here, at all places and why not at just some Cuban cafe?

That's right. He didn't know a lick of Spanish, excluding the ones he had heard from his seatmate, Antonio. God, he hated this. Why did he even want to be here again? He doesn't know himself, and truthfully, does not give to shits right now. He was hungry, he was dripping wet, cold, and under the air conditioner. The restaurant was playing music that wasn't his fancy, and he had decided to slump in a chair that was under the air conditioner. Lovely-

"Hey, uhm," The man looked up to see another man with golden blond hair and sky blue eyes, black framed glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He sat on the chair and smiled. "Do you want anything?"

Weird. "Who are you?"

"Alfred F. Jones," he said. "And you?"

"Arthur Kirkland," he answered.

"Okay, Artie- mind if I call you Artie?" No. "You look like you're starving, plus it's raining like lions and wolves outside-"

"Cats and dogs," Arthur interrupted.

"Lions and wolves are worse than cats and dogs," Alfred explained. "Anyways, it's raining outside and you look like you need food. So, want anything?"

"No thank you," Arthur declined. "I don't want to rob you of your money."

"Well," Alfred played with his own thumbs. "I can get your wallet from your car- you can watch me if you wanna make sure I won't steal anything and stuff. Just tell me where it is."

Arthur blinked and sniffed. He sneezed from being under the air conditioner at the same time, his hair being damp. Oh, he was going to get a cold after this."Why are you doing this?"

Alfred shrugged. "I dunno, I guess I just wanna help."

"Oh..." How nice of him. "Well," Arthur coughed. "Get me the cheapest...food on the menu and I'll pay you back."

"No worries, you don't have to," Alfred assured him. "And feel free to get anything from the menu. I can totally afford it and it's good. That's what I love about this place."

"Well," Arthur coughed, blushing a bit. "Let's see..."

The rest of that rainy morning consisted of them chatting for hours in the restaurant, as if they were stranded on an island. Yet they had food and each other to talk to. When the rain cleared up, they had found out so much about each other in such a little time. Arthur was an artist, twenty-eight years old and currently in America with a business visa as he was to sculpt something for this art museum's lobby. Alfred had simply stated that he was working for a news paper.

As the day went on, they managed to set up a date for next week for dinner. There, Arthur had discovered that Alfred knew fluent Spanish. He says that you eventually had to if you planned to stay here for a while. Arthur simply nodded. When Alfred had walked Arthur to his apartment, they shared their first kiss with each other and almost made it into the bed before stopping themselves and agreeing to wait a little longer.

The next day, Arthur had read the little poem that Alfred slipped in his pocket before leaving for work.

_Roses are red  
>violets are blue<br>this seems a little bit awkward at first,  
>but I'm falling for you.<em>

That litte poem had sealed the deal and their relationship was established.

A few months later, Arthur was running out of money, and he had to move out of his apartment. Although, Alfred had welcomed Arthur to move into his apartment; and so the Englishman did and with open arms. His apartment was surprisingly roomy. Alfred had claimed that his brother previously lived here before going abroad in France. Arthur scoffed at that.

"What, you don't like France?" Alfred questioned.

"Not entirely, but there is one person who resides there that I don't want to be reminded of," Arthur explained.

"Ex?"

"Childhood..." Arthur searched for the word. "Acquaintance."

"Childhood acquaintance, hm?" Alfred inched closer to him. "And you said he was French? Really?"

"Alright. Once. But it was to make someone jealous," Arthur sighed. "I owed him one."

"Okay..."

Arthur grinned as he sat behind Alfred. "Is someone jealous?"

"No, of course not?" Arthur started massaging his shoulders. "Why should I be jealous?"

"I assure you, I haven't had sex before," Arthur breathed into his ears.

Alfred's breath hitched. "You sure? You seem like a pro. I'm already turned on."

The two chuckled before Arthur pressed his lips against Alfred's, wrapping his arms around his neck from the back. Alfred grunted and placed Arthur on his lap, Arthur wrapping his legs around his waist. Alfred coiled his arms around Arthur's hip before he started to peel off Arthur's clothes as they began lying down on the bed.

Alfred pulled Arthur's head close to his and whispered. "Roses are red, violets are blue, I can't wait to fuck you."

Arthur laughed and kissed his nose. "You need to work on your poems, love."

"Okay, after this, babe."

And that was the first time they made love together. Took a while, buy really worth it.

For the next two years, they had a routine of waking up, getting ready, going to work, and if the day was really stressful, the would have sex anywhere in the apartment. The couch, the kitchen counter, in the shower, in bed, on the floor, etc.

They had arguments here and there, but it was resolved in the end. Alfred kept on dropping his poems when he wanted, constantly trying to improve. At one point, Arthur had tried to cook, only for the kitchen to set on fire. Luckily, Alfred acted quick and got the fire extinguisher from the hall. They got a new oven and stove a couple months after. From then on, it was either Alfred would cook, Arthur would have to learn to cook along with creating his art, or they would order take out every day. Alfred cooked in the end for almost all their meals and it turned out surprisingly good- but kind of greasy. Every now and then they would either eat out or get take out and made the occasional dates.

They had a happy life.

Until Arthur's business visa had ended and he had to return to England. Alfred was devastated when he found out and had reluctantly helped Arthur with the packing. The apartment felt emptier now with out him.

Even so, they tried to make it work even with the Atlantic ocean in their way and promised that they would be the best long-distant relationship couple in history.

Before Arthur left, Alfred had asked him what his address would be. It was a couple of days before he had to depart, and Arthur had questioned why he asked.

Days later, when Arthur had returned to his flat in England, he had gotten air mail from Alfred. It was poem.

_'Faces are red,  
>Faces are blue.<br>But as soon as I found out you had to leave,  
>I already missed you'<em>

_Love,  
>Alfred<em>

During that time of Arthur being stuck in England, they had set up a schedule of when they can and can't call each other. They made late night phone calls, really expensive by the way and they had written to each other everyday. They had communicated with each other through the Internet as well.

A year later, Arthur had called Alfred in the middle of the night. "Hello?"

"Guess who got a job in America and is going to stay there?" That had woken him up. "Permanently."

The day Arthur was moving back to America, he had received the last mail he would get from his place. Naturally, it was a poem from Alfred.

_'Oceans apart  
>Yet we're still together<br>Hope it will be  
>Five ever and ever'<em>

_Love,  
>Alfred<em>

_P.S.: Five ever means more than forever ;)_

And so, the two had moved in together again. As soon as they got home, they had gotten to bed and left the unpacking for the next day.

Seven months later, they had gotten used Alfred's car to take a trip up to Orlando going to the Disney theme parks. Seems a bot weird for two grown men to go to a place suited more for kids, but they didn't really care. The tickets were fairly expensive, and there was the hotel, food, and gas; so they had to go to two parks or less.

The parks they had chosen were Magic Kingdom and Epcot. They rode the rides there and ate, of course. When it was time for the fireworks, the two were at the back of the crowd, a suitable place to watch the fireworks and not to be seen at the same time. Even though it was dark and everyone's attention was to the fireworks, they wanted no risk of a parent or some other adult telling Alfred to stop putting his arm around his boyfriend.

The trip had surprisingly turned out well. Well, with the exception of the flat tire they had gotten when they were returning come. In a result of that, they had to call a tow truck (even though Alfred had offered to drag the car to an auto repair shop. Also, they had to stay in the cheapest hotel they could find. Not very great bathroom service. And when they got home after two days, they had fell asleep as soon as they had arrived.

Three months later, Arthur had started his job as an art teacher in an elementary school. Because of that, they had to move again. That summer, they went house shopping and had found a wonderful two story house in a fairly quiet neighborhood that was placed next to a park. What made the house even better was that a library was just down the street along with a grocery store and the gas station was just a block away.

Five months had passed and there were hardships here and there. This day was a special day. And no- it's not _just _because of Valentine's Day. It's also the day that Alfred and Arthur met. Today was really different from the last time. Instead of it being rainy, it was really cold in the morning that Alfred swore that he saw his breath. Well, it may not be _that _cold, but for a person who has lived in one of the warmest states, as soon as it hits fifty degrees give or take, you will freeze your ass off

Alfred rubbed his hands on his arms as he walked in the restaurant. He smiled as he felt the warm air surround him. The smiled at the cashier. Still the same girl from five years ago at the same store. "Hey Lizzy."

"Hey Alfred," still tired like the last time, but she appeared more awake this time. "I got your order ready."

"And I didn't even list anything yet," Alfred grinned. "Customer service is awesome as usual."

"That's only because you placed your order yesterday," Elizaveta reminded him. She took out a small box of McNuggets and winked at Alfred. "It was pretty easy to make. Good luck!"

As he slid into his favorite seat, Alfred texted Arthur to meet him. As soon as he sent the text, he got an idea. He took a couple of napkins from the counter and a pen from his pocket and started writing. When he finished, he ran it over and nodded to himself in approval. He tapped his fingers on the table and began waiting for Arthur to arrive. He took a deep breath and remembered what happened five years ago.

_It was raining and they were still engaged in a conversation until Alfred had gotten hungry again. He blushed. "Sorry."_

_"No, go ahead, eat," Arthur said. "I have my phone ready if you ever get a heart attack."_

_"Haha, very funny," Alfred replied, sarcastically as he went to the counter to order. When he got his order of fries, he started eating through it. As he did, he ran into an onion ring. "Huh, I thought this only happened at Burger King."_

_"Pardon?"_

_"You see, there apparently was a worker at Burger King who would put onion rings into people's fries," Alfred explained. "It's pretty uplifting actually. I don't know why, it just kinda is...And it kinda makes me think..."_

_"Oh, what kind of genius is your brain up to now?"_

_"You're like the King of Sarcasm, aren't you?" Alfred grumbled. "Anyways, I wonder if someone has ever proposed to someone with it."_

_"Something romantic involving something greasy," Arthur thought it over. "Plausible."_

_A long pause had filled the atmosphere before Alfred coughed. "Do you want it?"_

_"Hm?"_

_"Well, you haven eaten in a while, so here," He gave him the onion ring. "It's pretty good. No chcolate, but it's still good."_

_"...Thank you."_

Alfred turned his head as he saw Arthur walk in and had a big grin on his face. Onion rings can substitute almost anything. Well, at least two things. Chocolates and what he was about to substitute it for. Oh the wonders of fast food meals.

"Hey," Alfred greeted as Arthur slid into the booth.

"Do you have something planned?" Arthur asked.

"You could say that," Alfred grinned as he slid the box to Arthur. "Hold on, let me tie my shoe. Start eating if you want while I'm at it."

Arthur rose a brow as he opened a box. Only to find an onion ring and some words written at the top of the inside of the box.

_'Let me read you a poem.'_

Arthur blinked and turned to Alfred who slid into Arthur's side of the booth and took out a piece of napkin, a poem written on it. Alfred smiled sheepishly as he started to read it.

_This sounds silly  
>and I may sound annoying<br>but just letting you know,  
>who do you plan on marrying?<em>

_An engagement from an onion ring,  
>in a fast food restaurant<br>but really,  
>you're all I've ever want.<em>

_My grammar isn't good  
>my poetry isn't fancy<br>I try to rhyme  
>this does not count-cy.<em>

Arthur gave him a look for that attempt, and Alfred resumed reading his poem, whispering the last line of the verse.

_I love you, Arthur  
>all of your flaws that shape you into perfection<br>believe it or not,  
>it gives me an erection.<em>

A punch was inflicted on Alfred's arm.

_Okay, that sounded really strange  
>and I know you agree<br>to be honest,  
>I can't disagree.<em>

_I have to end this poem,  
>but I want to continue us<br>you may not know it,  
>but at times, it's really a fuss.<em>

_Even so,  
>I find it worth it<br>the love and fights-  
>every single bit.<em>

_To cut it short  
>and make it snappy,<br>without it  
>being sappy.<em>

_I love you Arthur,  
>I really do.<br>Will you give me the honor  
>of marrying you?<em>

Alfred took the box as he started the last verse and opened it with his right hand. As he presented the onion ring sitting in the little cardboard box, he scratched his neck. "It isn't anything big, but... I meant every word in that poem. So... will you marry me?"

"And yet you're still being sappy," Arthur sighed, causing Alfred to frown until Arthur left a quick peck on his cheek.

"But yes, I will marry you. Your dorky poems and all."


End file.
